


nearly out of reach

by orphan_account



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:18:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheffield explores O'Brien, physically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nearly out of reach

**Author's Note:**

> this was beta'd by my dear friend [rei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/apurochi) !! it's a (late) birthday gift to [efe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pantherophis/pseuds/pantherophis)  
> this is mostly oral fixation/handjobs.  
> i haven't posted my writing publicly since 2008 so this is a little scary but i hope you enjoy this. ok

O’Brien reclines on the examination table, trying to deny that his heart is nearly pounding out of his chest. It’s cold, like the rest of the room, and the steel is harsh and unforgiving. Even though he’s in lab attire, he can still feel the chill of the table biting at his fingertips. Sheffield enters the room, closing the door behind him gently, as if he were a doctor addressing a patient for the first time. He locks it with minimal effort. 

When Sheffield turns on the faucet to wash his hands, O’Brien feels a wave of frigidity come upon him, separate from the brisk examination table. Sheffield is, of course, extremely thorough with cleaning his hands. He takes the requisite fifteen seconds, even cleaning the underneath of his fingernails. It was facility-wide policy.

“Are you ready?” Sheffield states more than asks, turning off the faucet. When there is no reply, Sheffield smiles to himself and says, “Good. Let’s begin.”

Hovering above his side, Sheffield grabs O’Brien’s face, and moves it slightly off kilter.With gentle, delicate hands, Sheffield holds Heat’s mandible and pulls it down, leaving O’Brien with his mouth agape. O’Brien stares up at Sheffield with pleading eyes, like a wounded animal, making Serph chuckle to himself. He pulls over a rolling table lined with plastic, stainless steel instruments sitting in the center.

As Sheffield picks from his available instruments, Heat waits, patiently. He could feel himself getting hard already, excited at the thought of Sheffield probing at his insides, as superficial as they may be. There was a pressure between himself and his pants, and he prays Serph wouldn’t notice. 

Sheffield finally selects something, a tool with a harsh, pointed edge and a steel grip. As he inserts into Heat’s mouth, it is unforgivingly cold. Sheffield roots around, pulling at gum lines and running the instrument’s pointed tip around the crests of O’Brien’s teeth. Seemingly unhappy with what he is doing, Sheffield puts it down on the table with a sigh.

Leaning over O’Brien, Sheffield smiles wryly and moves Heat’s head so that it is tilted directly to the side. O’Brien finds himself staring at Sheffield’s hospital badge, thinking of the way Serph looks like he is charming him through the laminated piece of paper. 

Without warning, Sheffield slides a finger into O’Brien’s mouth and presses it harshly against the wall of his cheek. Heat looks up at Serph, expectantly, as he bridges the gap between them. O’Brien can smell Sheffield’s breath, feel it on his cheek, feel Serph’s dark gaze even though he isn’t even looking into his eyes.

With his free hand, Sheffield lightly brushes his finger over O’Brien’s teeth, and presses the pad of his finger onto one of Heat’s canines. Heat is drooling, silently begging for the chance to swallow his own spit, worrying that it’ll hitch in his throat. Noticing the accumulation of saliva in O’Brien’s mouth, Sheffield drags the finger free from holding Heat’s cheek in place along the underneath of his tongue, dipping it into the pool of spit. O’Brien jerks slightly at the sensation of Serph touching him there.

Sheffield then takes his finger and inserts into his own mouth, tasting O’Brien’s essence. It was sweet, almost naively so. It was enough to send a wave of heat throughout his body. Sheffield must continue his examination, for the sake of science.

Sheffield leans into O’Brien’s face, close enough to give the indication that they were going to kiss, and O’Brien shuts his eyes like a schoolgirl.

Sheffield spits directly into his mouth.

It’s an obvious shock to O’Brien, who must have felt it in the back of his throat, and his eyes open immediately. There’s no “Serph, what the fuck?” just a confused stare, like an animal that was just yelled at.

“Swallow it,” Serph commands, pulling his finger out from Heat’s mouth. Reflexively, O’Brien does so.

Pleasing Serph like this - following his word like this, being told what to do with himself like this - floods O'Brien’s body with arousal, and he feels like he can come already. Serph, ever vigilant, places his hand onto the bulge that had formed inside Heat’s pants.

Feeling around, Sheffield grips the loose outline of O’Brien’s dick.

“Serph,” Heat chokes out, sounding like he was pleading for his life. Sheffield laughs to himself. 

“Sit up, O’Brien,” Sheffield says simply, and Heat dutifully obeys. Hopping up onto the table and swinging himself over O’Brien, Sheffield sits on Heat’s lap. Serph wraps his legs around Heat’s waist. O’Brien’s erection is awfully obvious, enough so that he’s blushing and sweating. It pleases Sheffield immensely.

Leaning up, Serph licks a bead of sweat off of Heat’s face. It’s salty, and warm, and most importantly, tastes of O’Brien. Sheffield stares down at Heat’s crotch. Taking off O’Brien’s belt, Sheffield pulls out Heat’s dick from his boxers. It throbs in Serph’s hand as each wave of blood flows in.

He wraps his slender fingers around O’Brien, jerking it upwards, but with care.

“Ah, I -” O’Brien stammers. His tone is loud enough to bring a smile to Sheffield’s face.

“Shut up.”

Sheffield pumps O’Brien with enough force that Heat has to bite his own hand to stop him from moaning loud enough to alert the facility. The small bead of precum appearing on O’Brien’s dick affirmed to Sheffield that, in addition to the stifled moans, O’Brien was enjoying himself. Taking this as an invitation, Sheffield picks up intensity and pace. The examination table is shaking in tandem with Serph’s strokes. 

Drool is starting to pool in Heat’s mouth, and a little escapes and falls onto Serph’s hand. Sheffield stops, as if offended. O’Brien lets out a pained groan. He was close, beyond close, just a couple more touches from Serph and, and - 

“I’m done,” Serph announces, licking the sweat off of his palm. 

“Not yet! I mean, Serph, please,” Heat pleads, ripping his hand from his mouth and looking Sheffield desperately in his dark eyes. Sheffield’s eyebrows raise, as if he’d heard something very humorous.

“Oh?” Serph smiles coyly, “You have your own hands, finish yourself.”

“Serph, please,” Heat repeats. He feels pathetic, like an absolute idiot. Maybe he was.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,” Sheffield lies.

“I...I need you finish me,” O’Brien is obviously struggling to find words, and Sheffield didn’t that his neanderthal brain was overwhelmed by sensation.

“What was that first part?”

“I,” Heat gulped down some spit, “...need you.”

The corners of Sheffield’s mouth tug and he smiles, very faintly. 

“I see.”

Serph curls his fingers around O’Brien again. He starts the gentle rhythm again and Heat looks like he took his first breath in years. O’Brien closes his eyes, his breath labored and stilting.

“Serph, can I..?” Sheffield feels the force that O’Brien’s cock is throbbing with, and knows exactly what he’s asking for. Not getting a response, Heat impatiently croaks out, “Please, just let me cum.”

Sheffield finally continues palming O’Brien, and finds him warm. Heat’s hips twitch and they both know that it’s impossible to delay the inevitable.

“You may.”

Heat hisses in satisfaction. He comes, and there’s enough force behind it that it spatters onto Sheffield’s pristine face in ugly translucent globs. O’Brien’s heart stops momentarily, when he sees Serph raise a hand to his own face. Sheffield dabs a bit off with his finger, and surprises Heat when it’s shoved into his mouth.

“Do you taste yourself?” After asking this, Sheffield’s pupils widen, like a child seeing an incredible sight. He shoves his finger more roughly into O’Brien’s mouth. Heat manages some sort of “yes” even though Serph’s sliding his own cum around on his tongue. He’s able to relax as Serph removes it from his mouth. 

Not one to waste time, Sheffield unhooks himself from O’Brien and gets off the examination table. He’s unbuttoning his lab coat as O’Brien sits there, dick still throbbing. He watches Heat cool down slowly from his erection, but he’s is still breathing in uneven chunks.

Numbly, Heat tries to put himself back in his pants, but he’s still shaking. Sheffield has already changed lab attire and started to wash his hands. He takes an uncomfortably long time doing this, and Heat just watches him. He takes the time to clean the underneath of his nails - it was facility-wide policy.

“Goodbye, O’Brien,” Serph says as he exits, leaving Heat in the dim examination room, alone.


End file.
